


proud of you, son. that's all i want to hear.

by beanplague



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bad Parent John Winchester, Coming Out, Dean Winchester's Toxic Masculinity, Drabble and a Half, Gen, Trans Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:40:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28497720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beanplague/pseuds/beanplague
Summary: Dean comes out to his dad. Dean learns to be a man.[a drabble-y fanfiction that i wrote because i accidentally became very passionate about trans dean upon rewatch of a few episodes.]
Comments: 1
Kudos: 36





	proud of you, son. that's all i want to hear.

**Author's Note:**

> slight warning for one instance of deadnaming. it's quick and immediately corrected without much fanfare. i dislike trans tragedy porn.

Dad,

  1. I am not your daughter.
  2. I am not Mom.
  3. My name is Dean. I want you to call me Dean, ‘cus if you keep calling me that name, if you keep treating me like a girl, keep thinking of me as your daughter, I don’t know what I’ll do. I know things aren’t supposed to be easy, but can this be? Can I just be your son now? Can I be Sammy’s brother? Please?



Those are the salient points of Dean’s coming out speech to his dad, which he delivers at some stupid age—his early teens, maybe before. Maybe he was twelve—after a long argument in which he gets so damn tired of his deadname and this _you’re my daughter_ schtick that his dad has adopted. He says this, and he tries to make himself as big as possible. Tries to square his shoulders and look indignant. Tries to be a _man,_ as far as he knows it. And as far as Dean knows it, being a man is in being tough. Resilient.

His dad is stone-faced at first. Dean tries not to shift uncomfortably, because he knows that’s John’s way. Always cold, always intimidating, always the boss in every situation. If he’s upset with you, it’s for a reason. Sometimes he’ll be upset with you for what seems like no reason at all, but that’s because the world put him in a certain place and he’s tired of it. That’s the reason. You’re the reason.

John opens his mouth.

Dean,

  1. Okay.



And that’s all John Winchester has to say on the subject of his son. Almost takes the wind out of Dean’s sails—has it always been that simple? I’m your son, this is my name? One and done? No questions? No yelling? No arguing? Just… okay. It’s just okay to be Dean.

He stands in the motel room kitchenette and stares at the blank space where his dad stood just a second ago. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what to _do._ For so long he was pretending (badly) to be someone else, to be John Winchester’s daughter. It seems kinda wrong for it to be this easy. For things to change this quickly, the floor falling out from under Dean with just that one word. Okay.

He finds his way to the bedroom at some point. It’s dark for the most part, barely illuminated by a nightlight which lights up the side of Sam’s face when he pulls the blanket down from over his head.

“Mary,” he whispers. “Did you get in a fight with Dad?”

Sam is just a cute little kid at this point. All messy hair and big eyes and this bit of innocence that Dean sometimes resents him for. (Only sometimes. In the worst moments. Just little things, like thoughts about how he never got to have a nightlight.)

“It’s Dean now,” he replies, walking over to Sam and ruffling his hair. “Told Dad I was a boy, Sammy. He said okay. Now go to sleep.”

Sam blinks. “Why Dean?”

“It’s a nice name. Manly, right?”

“I guess. Sounds like grandma's name.” Sam looks down at the floor, then back up at Dean. “You wanted to be a boy for a long time, yeah?”

Dean hesitates. “I was always a boy. Just needed you and Dad to know I was one.”

“I’ve always wanted a brother.”

“Well, I’m happy to be one for you. Now, as your older brother, I’m telling you to get to sleep. Otherwise I gotta tell Dad.”

“I can’t believe you became my brother _and_ a snitch.”

“Real tragedy, kid.”

Sam says, “Goodnight, Dean.”

And Dean, feeling all manner of tightness in his chest and tears pricking behind his eyes—very stupid, crying is the first girl-habit he’s gotta leave behind—replies: “Night, Sammy.”

* * *

“Listen, Dean. If you’re gonna be a son, I’ve got to show you the things I was gonna show Sam.” John’s got a hard look on his face. Dean tries to match it. They’re in the woods. Dean is holding a gun. “Better this way, probably. Kid’s too young to learn.”

_And I wouldn’t be learning,_ thinks Dean, smart enough to know not to say anything. Must show on his face, though, because John clicks his teeth.

“Rolling your eyes is for girls. Men talk, Dean.”

Dean straightens his shoulders. Right. Men talk. ‘Cept when they’re not supposed to. Men talk when they aren’t supposed to be listening, and don’t listen when they want to be talking. “I know how to shoot a gun, Dad.”

“You know how to shoot a gun when you _have_ to. In case something tries to hurt you or your brother. It’s different when there’s a monster on the other side of that gun, Dean. When something looks at you like it’s a person.”

“There’s always people on the other side of it, Dad. It’s a gun. You use it to shoot people.”

_“We_ use it to shoot _monsters.”_ And sometimes people become monsters. Dean nods. “You get it, kid?”

Dean says, “I get it.” And only partially because he wants his dad to use his name again. To hear it every which way. With hesitation and without. With frustration and with happiness and with pride. God, Dean would kill for his Dad to say it with pride. Might have to.

Dean shoots cans with his dad for a while. Imagines all sorts of shit on the other end. It’s mostly to work on his aim. Sometimes to work on his tolerance for John breathing down his neck, snapping at him when he does something wrong. _Trying to protect you, Dean. Trying to make sure you don’t get yourself killed._

At the end of it, his dad says: “Good practice.” Dean, with his ears ringing, thinks that maybe they should invest in some damn earplugs. Bitching’s for girls, though. Men talk; and if they’re not talking it’s because they’re supposed to be listening. Dean listens. “Love you, Dean. Just need to make sure you’re cut out for all this.”

“I am,” he says, more serious about this one statement than he’s been about anything before. “I’m gonna make you proud, Dad.”

“Keep up that attitude, _son_.”

* * *

Dean’s first kill is a vamp. Blood-sucking son of a bitch wasn’t phased at the machete; but probably didn’t expect the kid holding it to know what he was doing. Jokes on him. Dean’s covered in blood and bruises from the whole encounter, but when John comes back from ganking the rest of the nest? He puts a hand on Dean’s head and ruffles his hair.

“Proud of you, Dean.”

Dean’s pretty sure that’s when it all goes to hell. He carries the moment in his heart for the rest of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> i have a bit from the end of this where he and cas discuss sexuality for literally no reason and nowhere to put it so maybe one day i'll figure out what to do with that. i thought it'd be better for this little drabble as a whole if i kept it short, simple, and sweet.


End file.
